


By Any Other Name

by DaniGetYourGun (SharkbaitHooHaHa)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Crowley is Bad at Feelings (Good Omens), Drabble, Fluff, M/M, Pet Names
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 08:53:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19971346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharkbaitHooHaHa/pseuds/DaniGetYourGun
Summary: Crowley tries out various pet names for Aziraphale.





	By Any Other Name

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote [a tumblr post](https://acuteangleaziraphale.tumblr.com/post/186530810565) about Crowley using various pet names and decided to flesh it out a bit. I hope you enjoy!

Crowley wasn’t sure what exactly went wrong, but somehow, his lunch date with Aziraphale had ended with the angel acting like a complete nervous mess. The afternoon had been going well until about halfway through, when Aziraphale took a sip of his half-finished champagne and promptly spat it out in a wide spray that managed to cover the entire table before dissolving into a coughing fit. Even after he had recovered, he spent the rest of their time together with a light flush across his cheeks and he stammered through every word with a soft smile on his face.

Crowley ran through the events of the day to try and figure out what exactly happened. They arrived at the restaurant, were seated at the table (Crowley pulled out Aziraphale’s chair, which he thought was rather smooth of him,) the waiter brought the champagne, they ordered their food, they received their food, Aziraphale commented on how good it tasted and asked Crowley if they should split a dessert, Crowley responded with “whatever you’d like, darling,” Aziraphale spit out his champagne–

Oh.

Oh _no_.

“DARLING?!” He screamed, stalking into the room where he kept his trembling plants. “WHY DON’T I JUST POP DOWN ON ONE KNEE AND PULL OUT A RING NEXT?!”

The plants, realizing Crowley’s wrath wasn’t directed at them, stilled as Crowley continued his rant. 

“MAYBE I’LL RENT A PLANE, WRITE ‘I LOVE YOU, ANGEL’ ACROSS THE BLOODY SKY! WOULD CERTAINLY BE LESS OBVIOUS THAN-”

Crowley froze. Aziraphale hadn’t looked uncomfortable, he realized. Nervous, yes, embarrassed, a little, but not uncomfortable. In fact, the glances that he kept shooting Crowley had almost seemed delighted.

But, no. There was no way.

In any case, he couldn’t be sure without trying again.

—

The next time was careful, calculated. He waited until there wasn’t anything nearby for the angel to try to drink.

The opportunity presented itself when Aziraphale stopped to admire the ducks and tell them how pretty they all were. 

Crowley somehow managed to sound casual and cool, in spite of the rapid beating of his useless heart and the clamminess of his clenched hands as he said, “come on, now, dove.”

The way Aziraphale positively beamed in response nearly made his heart, which he really shouldn’t even have, beat out of his chest.

“Coming, dearest,” Aziraphale called back, and that was it. That was going to be the word that murdered Crowley.

He felt faint. He sank to the ground with a groan and put his head between his legs, earning him several confused glances from several passerby and the concerned fluttering of a fretful angel.

—

It would be easier after that, or so Crowley thought. Which is why he had no qualms slipping in a 'sssweetheart’ with a 'could you be a little quieter’ as he lazed under a heat lamp in snake form while Aziraphale busied himself putting books away in the shop.

Aziraphale’s face turned a rather becoming shade of pink and Crowley made a small choking noise.

“Are you okay?” Aziraphale asked the snake. The snake gave no response. “Crowley?” He asked again, more concerned. 

The snake merely moved its head back and forth in a 'no’ gesture before curling up so that its face was well hidden within its coils, and Aziraphale had to spend the next month with a mute snake who absolutely refused to take human form living in his bookshop. At least it kept the customers away.

—

He had been very drunk. That was his only excuse.

And Aziraphale said something very flirtatious and charming.

So it was only natural that Crowley would fire back with a 'thank you, stud-muffin’ complete with finger-guns.

Everything froze, like it did on the few occasions when Crowley stopped time.

Except, in this particular instance, it wasn’t demonic intervention, but simply Crowley making an utter fool of himself that managed to sway the will of the universe.

Finally, Aziraphale cleared his throat, poured himself another rather sizable helping of wine, and changed the subject.

The two never spoke of the incident again.

—

They were having an argument. Well, Aziraphale was having an argument over something to do with books while Crowley regretted ever broaching the topic in the first place.

Crowley pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Please, love, can we just– mmph!”

He was cut off as a rather emotional angel threw himself in his direction and kissed him rather hungrily on the mouth.

Love.

He’d have to remember that one.

—

'My everything’ ends up getting the most use, aside from 'angel,’ of course.

He whispers it into the angel’s ear as they drift off to sleep.

He mutters it when they greet one another each morning. 

He sighs it into his angel’s mouth when they kiss.

And he declares it loudly, in front of all their human friends as he recites his vows.


End file.
